


Craters

by astudyinfic



Category: Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom, bondlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinfic/pseuds/astudyinfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just wait for a crater to erupt somewhere in the world and start your search there."  -M</p><p>Where James Bond goes, craters follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“007, two bodyguards on the right.  Yes, the ones with the tacky red ties.”  Q sighed, staring at his monitors.  Six months of working with 007 and he could already answer the man’s obnoxious comments before they even left his mouth.  He worked with all nine double-ohs but Bond was the only one he could read.  The others kept their distance, interacted with him to the extent that they needed to complete the mission, and then disappeared into the ether until they were required again.

James Bond was different.  Where the others received their tech in silence and returned it in one piece, Bond always took his with a snide comment and heartfelt thanks but then never returned it.  Ever.  Q really was not sure which he preferred.  Sure, he wanted his equipment back, but the feeling of appreciation and belonging he received from Bond meant more.  Not that he planned on vocalizing that opinion.  The man was a trained killer and notorious womanizer.  Being the eyes and ears of most missions, Q had been privy to a number of these conquests.  There was no way a geeky, gangly man in glasses could compete with beautiful, elegant women.  Q nursed his school boy crush in his private hours while maintaining his utmost professionalism at work.  He didn’t plan to spend his tenure as the youngest quartermaster in MI6 history like a love struck, googly eyed teenager.

Glancing at his monitors, he watched as Bond effortlessly made his way through the crowd.  Listening to Bond place his typical order at the bar then proceed to make small talk with the other patrons, Q marveled silently how the man excelled in every way that Q failed.  He would never be suave or debonair.  He would always look slightly too thin for his clothes no matter how well tailored they were.  He could never mingle, fitting in no matter the situation.  Even in a crowd of tech geeks, his intelligence made him stand out.  And in their line of work, to stand out was to be a target.

“Just like Geneva,” Bond was saying and Q shook himself realizing he had been daydreaming a bit.

“Yes, but I am pretty sure they aren’t looking to kill you; just keep you out of the VIP room.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Bond huffed, sipping his martini and staring directly into one of the cameras he placed during the evening.  Being the subject of that ice blue gaze, even from thousands of miles away, caused Q to shudder involuntarily.

Tonight’s mission was more reconnaissance and set up.  Tomorrow the real action would take place at the quarterly company event for Torbett Industries.  The location was a high class restaurant completely lacking in CCTV cameras.  All Q had to do tonight was point out the locations for Bond to set up the cameras and direct his attention to things that may be of use the following night.

When everything was in place, Bond asked, “Are you going to want to debrief tonight or can it wait until morning?”

“Tomorrow will be sufficient.  I didn’t see anyone there up to your usual standards, 007.  Have another pressing engagement this evening?”  Q tried to keep his voice light with no hint of accusation.  He tamped down his jealousy, forcing himself to focus on the mission. 

“Only with a couple more martinis and a bottle of Scotch.  Good night, Q.”  Hearing the connection break, Q collapsed in his chair, breathing out a sigh of relief.  A night that ended with no explosions and no bullets was rare indeed.  Taking a sip of his long cold Earl Grey, he allowed himself to relax.  Hopefully tomorrow would go just as well.

Since the first mission that brought them together as Quartermaster and agent, they had worked two more missions.  The first was the retrieval of a key drive that a low ranking government official lost, a fact that Q bemoaned loudly to anyone who would listen.  He still meant to talk to someone about more secure forms of information storage, as he was certain he could cut the number of missions in half if he was just allowed to upgrade the entire security network for the government.

That mission found Bond in Bangkok, escaping from heavily armed guards through a door thought to be secure.  Q had supplied him with an EMP generator shaped as a credit card that allowed the agent to disable the alarm system.  He often wondered how much more difficult their jobs would be if henchmen had half a brain in their heads.  If they had just checked behind the security door instead of writing it off as an impossibility, the whole mission could have ended differently.  If Q felt any relief upon seeing 007 enter the department after returning, he hid it behind his mock despair of over the loss of his equipment.

The second mission was supposed to be a routine bodyguard-type event.  The British ambassador to Belize was attending a summit in Geneva and there had been murmurs of an attempt on his life.  Since the other double-ohs were occupied with other missions, recovering from injuries, or yet to be replaced following their unfortunate demise, the duty fell to 007 who typically believed babysitting pompous diplomats to be beneath him. 

With ambassadors and delegates from locations as far flung as Andorra and Namibia, Brazil and Laos, there were more attachés, translators and bodyguards than actual dignitaries, making it simple work for 007 to blend in to the crowd.  Q was unsure whether to be relieved or jealous when Bond took up with one of the bodyguards from the Indian delegation, a woman named Kitty, who kept him occupied during the down time. 

After three days, Q himself began to believe that the whole mission was a waste of their time with not one shifty look to speak for through the whole meeting.  That evening however, when he spotted Kitty slipping soundlessly from Bond’s room and towards the ambassador’s quarters, he regretfully had to inform Bond, who racked up another kill in the name of England’s defense. 

Even though he knew Bond’s file in its entirety, that was the moment where Q truly understood what it meant to be a lover of James Bond.  He began to realize that he may not be as different from his brothers as he had once imagined when the idea of danger was more of an incentive than a deterrent.  That mission finally caused him to admit to himself that what he felt for Bond was not completely professional.  Thankfully, he told himself, James Bond was James Bond and when he could have any number of beautiful women he would never fall for a skinny nerd like Q.  The infatuation was perfectly safe as long as it stayed one sided.

He was torn from his musings by an incoming text and, in the abandoned Q-branch, he did not have to hide his smile.

_Go home.  You work too hard.  –007_

Agreeing with the arrogant agent, but not willing to inflate his ego further, Q proceeded to finish up some paperwork and shut down everything before finally responding on his way out the door.

_Good night 007.  Try not to get killed before I get in this morning.  -Q_


	2. Chapter 2

With only a couple hours of sleep, Q found himself back at MI6 early the next morning.  The department followed "regular business hours" whether he was working a mission or not, and he did not trust anyone else to take care of everything at Q-branch.   Earl Grey was the key to making it through and he kept the department well stocked.  
  
He was interrupted while getting yet another cup that afternoon by a technician poking her head into the kitchenette.  "007 on the line for you, sir."  Q paused.  It was only two pm in London, meaning it was five in the morning in California. He hadn't expected Bond to check in for several more hours.   
  
"Thank you, Courtney," he smiled at her, picking up his mug and making his way back to his desk.  "What can I do for you, Bond?  Thought you would still be asleep," he said after putting in his ear piece. 

“How long have you been at work?” was the gruff response.

Q’s eyebrow quirked at that, “Since eight.  Why does it matter?”

He heard a sigh on the other end of the line, “You do realize that the mission is not until this evening.  You should have slept in.”

“And left the department in whose hands?  Tanner?  I think not.  He still can’t figure out the new email system.  I’m fine.”   This was by far the strangest conversation they had ever had.  What was the agent on about?

“Just take care of yourself, Q.”  A sarcastic comment died on Q’s lips.  This wasn’t their usual banter and while he would like time to consider what it was and what it meant, their first priority was the mission.

He sighed, “What can I do for you, 007?”

 “I just need the information on our contact.”

Q had planned on sending the document during their briefing prior to Bond leaving for the event, but he didn’t see any harm in Bond having the information early.  “Transmitting it to your phone now.  You should have it within the minute.  Is there anything else I can do for you?”

There was a pause and a beep as the document was delivered to Bond’s phone.  “Looks like everything is here.  That’s all I need.  Thanks, Q,” and with that he disconnected.

Q shook his head slightly with a roll of his eyes.  Things were always different with 007.  None of the other double-ohs ever called to criticize his work hours but Bond just had to be unusual.  He took a moment to glance through the information he had just sent to the agent.

Their contact was a lead programmer for Torbett industries, a man identified only as Quinn.  He was highly intelligent, having graduated with honours from both Stanford and MIT with degrees in Computer Science and Programming.   Getting ready for the quarterly budget meeting he had stumbled across some shady accounting and, using his computer skills, determined that this missing money was being funneled to a terror cell in East Africa. Quinn had agreed to accompany Bond to the event, giving him access to the more restricted areas due to his middle management position. 

As he read over the information, his phone pinged with a new text:

_Like looking in a mirror?  -007_

Q smirked, having to admit that the contact did sound an awful lot like him though he would never have gone to a school like Stanford and he probably could have taken down the company from the inside without help from MI6. 

The day passed quickly and before long the department was empty and Bond was coming on line for a quick briefing.  Having already received the information on their informant, there was not much to discuss and within ten minutes Q was following the little red dot that was James Bond and hoping for the best.  On the whole, the mission was a simple one: find Bernard Torbett and eliminate him.  All the information they had gathered from Quinn’s research and Q’s hacking showed that Torbett was the only one involved, meaning that by eliminating him they cut off the funding source for the cell.   The only problem would be getting Torbett alone.  No sense in having witnesses.

Q watched as Bond and Quinn mingled in the crowd, Quinn hanging on Bond’s arm and looking every bit the infatuated suitor.   Jealousy nagged at the edge of Q’s consciousness as he wondered if that was how they would look if he was lucky enough to snag James Bond, how it would feel to have those strong hands on his waist. 

“Bond, Quinn, Torbett just went in to the VIP room accompanied by two bodyguards.” Q reported, watching the feed from the party.  Bond glanced at one of the cameras, an almost imperceptible nod that tells Q he understood.  Quinn however nodded feverishly, his hand drifting up towards his earpiece.   “Quinn, keep your hand away from your ear,” he heard Bond hiss.

After that, the two men split up, allowing Bond time to do surveillance on his own.  Doing what he does best, Q watched from a distance, giving 007 the information they had on party goers as they passed the agent’s line of sight.  He continued to keep an eye on Quinn, but most of his attention was on his agent and getting him where he needed to be.

“Fuck,” he heard Bond whisper under his breath.  Searching the camera feed quickly, Q found what he was looking for; Quinn being escorted into the VIP room by one of the bodyguards. 

Bond pushed his way through the crowd with Q speaking in his ear, “Bond, I have no cameras in there.  I don’t know what you would be walking in to and I don’t know why he was taken.  Be careful.”

He heard Bond growl as he almost reached the door, “I know why he was taken.  Wouldn’t keep his hand away from his ear.  It’s a red flag.  Why is it always the ear piece?”  007 seemed to be talking to himself more than Q, but Q responded anyway.

“Get him out, 007.  By the time you are back in London I will have a communication device ready that is less noticeable.”  In the back of his mind, he was already thinking up new ways to make the communication system easier for agents and informants while his primary focus was on the conversation he could hear Bond having with the man at the door.

Watching helplessly on the CCTV, Q could only hope Bond knew what he was doing when he punched the guard causing people to start screaming, the noise of which drowned out whatever Bond was saying.  Q scrambled to clean up the audio feed, getting rid of the background noise.  “Bond, do not go in there.  Repeat, do not enter the room.”  Whether the agent heard him and chose to ignore the order or just could not hear over the commotion, Q was unsure but the video clearly showed Bond kicking in the door and entering, gun drawn.

“Where is Quinn?” he heard Bond demand and cursed the fact that they did not have cameras in the back room.  As he continued to adjust the audio settings, Q struggled to hear anything that was being said.  Turning up the volume in the hope of getting a snippet of information, his hearing was nearly blown out when the first shot went off.

Gunfire punctured the audio stream as Q turned the volume down.  When the firing ceased it was followed by a tense silence and then the line disconnected. Heart pounding in his chest, Q took a deep breath before asking, "007?"  No response. "007?  Bond?  James?"  He tried to keep the panic out of his voice but it was no use.  "James.  Please answer."  He waited five more minutes with a dead line before activating the trackers.  No signal.  Not even on the one tied to Bond’s biological systems.  The only reason that would not activate was if 007 was….

With a shuddering breath, he made the call. 

"M. 007 is lost."


	3. Chapter 3

The lift from the Q-Branch bunker to M’s office never seemed so long.  Bad music blared in the background, typically an annoyance to Q who couldn’t hear it due to the pounding in his ears.  It was typical for Bond to vanish after a mission.  The man needed time to unwind.  Q knew this and respected it even if he did activate the radio transmitter implanted in Bond’s shoulder every time, just for his own peace of mind.  Never in the ten months he had been in charge of Q-Branch had an internal radio transmitter failed.  The only time they received no signal back was when 005 was killed in Borneo three months ago.

Bond wasn’t dead.  Q kept telling himself this in an effort to stop the screaming in his head.  He was a professional.  Losing agents was an occupational hazard.  But he couldn’t lose Bond.  Couldn’t.  He hadn’t been able to find any blocking tech in his scans of the restaurant but they were dealing with a technology company specializing in security.  It wouldn’t be unheard of for them to be able to block Bond’s tracker transmission.  Q just needed more time and M’s permission to continue.

When he had called M, the man had requested him in his office immediately.  Well, demanded.  Q kept his earpiece on and tuned to Bond’s frequency, hoping he would reestablish contact soon.  When he stepped from the lift, he finally glanced at his watch and realized just how late it was.  Or early, depending on the way you look at it.  Moneypenny wasn’t at her desk, a good sign that Q was working unusual hours yet again.  Though with the sun about to crest the horizon she should be arriving momentarily, he thought to himself.

Q took a deep breath before he pushed open the door.   “Sir, you wanted to see me.”

Mallory barely looked up from the paper he was perusing.  “Bond’s gone MIA again.  I’m not sure why this is cause for concern.  He does this all the time.  You should know that better than anyone.”

“True, sir, and I do know that.  However, this time the tracker has not activated.  Usually I can find him wherever he is even when he doesn’t want to be found.  The only time this has happened previously was with 005.”  Q willed his hands to stay still in his lap though he was anxious to wring them, just for something to do.

M sighed, setting down his paper.  “We’ll give him a week before we decide anything.”  Pinching his nose, he continued, “Just wait for a large crater to erupt somewhere in the world and start your search there.  Dismissed.”

A week.  He had one week to track Bond before he was listed as Deceased/MIA.  While this had happened to Bond numerous times before Q took over as his Quartermaster, he had no desire to see the process continue under his administration.  Glancing at his watch again he realized that if he was going to get anywhere with the search for Bond, he would need sleep. 

After a quick trip to Q-Branch to set up some tracking and face recognition software to scan the area around San Jose, Q left detailed notes for his underlings and took a few hours off, Bond’s voice still sounding in his head.  “Just take care of yourself, Q.”   He wouldn’t be any good to Bond if he was falling asleep at his computer.  He would give the software six hours to do the search and then he would take over. 

* ~ *

Q returned to his department only slightly refreshed after a rather restless sleep.  Visions of Bond in many different scenarios (each more terrifying than the last) kept playing behind his eyes, keeping him tossing and turning.  Sipping his first cup of Earl Grey, Q sorted through the data from the last few hours.  There was no trace on the radio transmitter either in Bond’s watch or in his shoulder.  Pushing aside the dread, Q looked over the face recognition software hits, of which there were six.  Three were eliminated immediately, but the other three took time.  Eventually he realized that none of the photos were of Bond. 

It had been eight hours since last contact and Q realized that 007, being who he was, could be halfway around the world by now.  Following M’s advice, he quickly set up a search for any news regarding unexplained explosions.  As tongue in cheek as M had been, there was some truth to the comment and Q refused to leave any possibility unprobed.  Starting a worldwide face recognition scan, Q sighed before returning to his normal duties.

After three days, most of which were spent in Q-Branch except when he absolutely had to sleep or eat, Q finally got a promising hit from Poland of all places.  The photo was blurry and there was no way Q could say it was more than a 75% chance of being him, but when he called M the director agreed to send someone to check.  009 was in the area and would do some looking around.

For two days, Q kept up his search, hoping for a good word from 009, but it was not to be.  Eventually 009 managed to track down the man in image who turned out to be a medical salesman and not, in fact, England’s top super spy.  When word came through, the mug closest to Q went flying through the air, shattering in a satisfying crash against the wall.  “Shit,” he mumbled and began typing furiously on the keyboard, desperate for a new lead.  The technicians and analysts avoided him for the rest of the day, out of fear of their boss’s wrath.

During the final two days, Q forgot to sleep and only ate if something was placed in front of him.  He wondered in the back of his mind where the food was coming from, but whether it was from a technician or Moneypenny, it didn’t really matter.  All that mattered was finding 007.

“Q,” he heard distantly, but his mind was focused and he was well trained at tuning out anything not related to the task at hand.  “Q!” Blinking, he turned to see Mallory looking resigned.  “It’s been a week.  It’s time to make the call.  We haven’t had one hint that 007 is still alive.  I’m sorry but I am going to have to ask you to stop your search.”

Q opened his mouth to argue, but realized there was no use.  M was as stubborn as everyone else at MI6 and if he had made up his mind no amount of persuasion was going to change it.  Nodding, Q agreed, however reluctantly.  Using MI6 resources to find 007 was no longer going to be an option.  He watched as M walked away and slowly turned off the tracking software he had been running.

That evening, safe in his own flat and away from the peeping eyes of MI6, he made a call to the one man who could help him when MI6 and his own skills had failed.

“Mycroft, this is Cris.  I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am going on the assumption that the internal transmitter is associated with the vital signs. No heartrate = no signal.
> 
> I really have no idea how these things work and couldn't find much information to go on with Google so I just made it up. :)


	4. Chapter 4

“Crispin, so nice to hear from you.  To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” Mycroft drawled on the other end of the line.

Q rolled his eyes in response to his brother’s insistence at using his full name and his ridiculous, posh manner of speaking.  “Mycroft, I’ve run into a bit of trouble, and you know I wouldn’t come to you if it wasn’t an emergency…” Q stuttered, cursing himself for reverting to the timid little boy who was always scared of his much older brother.

“Say no more, Crispin.  I can have you out of MI6 by midnight.  I always knew that was the wrong place for you.  Where would you like to disappear to?  Someplace warm, perhaps?  I have always fancied Bermuda myself.”

“I’m not in trouble with MI6, Mycroft.  I like my job and am not planning on leaving it.  I’ve just lost something of considerable value and am having trouble tracking it down.”

“I see.  And what might that be?”  Q heard the icy tone taken on by his brother.  Their estrangement was mostly due to Mycroft’s disapproval over his chosen career.   Mycroft had hoped one of his brothers would follow him into the government but the fact that Q had chosen such a “hands on” career with MI6 had been a source of immense disappointment to the eldest Holmes.

“My agent,” Q blurted out before he could catch himself.  “I mean, one of our agents has disappeared and none of my usual ways of tracking have yielded any results.”

Mycroft chuckled darkly, “You care for him, this agent.”  It was a statement not a question and Q cursed himself for being so transparent to his brothers.  If he didn’t truly need Mycroft’s help he would have hung up long ago, already tired of the condescension.  “Why?”

“Because he is different.  He is the best and we need him,” was the straightforward reply.

“MI6 or you?”

“Both.”

Mycroft sighed, “Crispin, haven’t I always told you that caring isn’t an advantage?”

“But if I didn’t care, I would have given up by now.  Field agents are a dime a dozen and losing them is part of the job.  But this man deserves more.  I’m bringing him home Mycroft -- dead or alive -- but after everything he has done for Queen and Country he deserves that much and I won’t stop until I can do that for him.”

Q felt he could almost hear Mycroft warring with himself between his desire to help his brother and his dislike of MI6.  Finally Mycroft agreed, “Alright, what do you need?”

“Mycroft, I don’t know how you do your job.  I just need you to find him.  If I send the information I have on this agent, will that be enough for you to go on?”

“Should be.  I am sure your files are very thorough, Crispin.  Send it to my assistant and I will get my best people on it right away.”

Q nodded, jotting down a couple notes along with the email address Mycroft gave him.  “That’s Anthea, right?”

“She is going by Kara this week, but yes.  I will be in touch, Crispin.  And please, watch out for yourself.  I can’t imagine you would be coming to me if this was an MI6 approved search.  You do know how they hate anyone stepping on their toes.”  Pride was evident in every word of that sentence and reminded Q once more how insufferable his brother could be. 

“Thank you, Mycroft.  I appreciate it.”

Disconnecting, Q felt calmer than he had in a week.  He sent the information off to Kara and took a deep breath.  Mycroft had means at his disposal that Q simply did not.  He had never asked how Mycroft did what he did, how he managed to know everything that happened in the country.  As a small child, he believed his brother to be magical.  Now, he understood that Mycroft was just brilliant, manipulative, and more powerful than anyone could believe.  If Mycroft couldn’t find Bond, there was nothing left to find.

He sighed before getting ready for bed.  At this point, it was out of his hands.  Mycroft would take care of it.  Q felt fairly certain that his belief in Mycroft’s abilities were not based on a sort of childhood idolization and more on the fact that his brother could in fact do pretty much anything.  Climbing into bed, he fell asleep quickly and slept better than he had in a week.  And if he dreamed of a certain agent and what he would like to do to him when he was found, well, that was neither here nor there.

The next morning he was back at MI6.  Mycroft hadn’t been in touch but he also did not expect results so soon and there were other matters to attend to.  Following the party, Bernard Torbett had taken a leave of absence from his company citing health concerns.  He had disappeared from their radar and Q was trying to track him down. 

Q had followed his trail as far as Prague but he seemed to vanish from there.  The money from his accounts was constantly being rerouted through a thousand different other accounts throughout the world and every time Q would follow one, the path would go cold and another would pop up in its place.  The challenge kept him engaged throughout the week and he was having more fun than he wanted to admit, finding an adversary capable enough to keep him on his toes.  He hadn’t had to work this hard since Silva, though he had learned a few things from that incident that he was putting into use with this current task.

He was still hard at work, deep within code, when his phone rang.  It took several rings before he realized that it was not his MI6 issue but the one he kept for personal use.  Only his brothers had that number and so it was rarely used.  Dropping everything, he answered the phone, “Mycroft.  What do you have?”

“Crispin, this man obviously does not want to be found.  This took considerably longer than I was expecting.  We have managed to track him back here to London and are certain that he has not left town nor does he appear to have any plans to.  The problem is he is either incredibly well trained or incredibly lucky.  We have not managed to get one glimpse of him on CCTV which may explain partially why you have not been able to find him.  I could continue to search for him but since he is in London, perhaps Sherlock would be a better choice.  While this agent may be able to avoid the cameras, it would be exceedingly more difficult to avoid Sherlock’s network of informants.”

Running a hand through his hair, Q sighed.  Mycroft had a point.  If Bond was in London but was intent on evading detection, then Sherlock’s “homeless network” may be his best bet.  No matter how good Bond was, it would be impossible to avoid all the people Sherlock had working for him.  “You are probably right.  Thank you, Mycroft.  I’ll go see him after work.” 

Hanging up, Q huffed softly.  Sherlock.  Not exactly the person he wanted to see tonight, but finding James was more important to him than anything, even avoiding meddling older brothers. 


	5. Chapter 5

Q knocked on the door of 221 Baker Street half expecting his brother to wrench it open and greet him with a thousand deductions.  Instead, a sweet old lady who he would know anywhere opened the door to greet him.

“Crispin Holmes!  It has been too long, dear.”  Mrs. Hudson held the door open wider, letting Q into the entry way before embracing him.  “My, what a fine looking man you have grown up to be.  I am sure you are here to see Sherlock.  Let me just pop up and let them know you are here.”

Nodding, Q stood in the entry way while she made her way up to 221B.  He had only been here once, right when Sherlock was moving in, but he had met Mrs. Hudson a few times when Sherlock was working on her husband’s case.  During breaks on uni, Q would stay with Sherlock.  It wasn’t ideal but Sherlock left him in peace to work on his computer and when the alternative was weeks at home with Mummy and Mycroft, well, anything was better than that.

After he got his job with MI6, Sherlock had accused him of becoming a “mini-Mycroft” and had started treating him with the same contempt he had for their eldest brother.  It hurt Q since they had been close growing up, only three years of age separating them and both of them too smart for their own good. 

Mrs. Hudson returned, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.  “Your brother is indisposed at the moment, dear, but Dr. Watson is expecting you.  Go on up.”  He thanked her and made his way up to the flat.

“Who are you?  Where’s Mycroft?”  a shorter, blonde man asked as Q let himself into the living room. 

“Mycroft?  Why are you expecting Mycroft?” Q asked suddenly very confused, wondering if perhaps Mycroft had already contacted Sherlock about this.  That would be just like his meddling brother.

“Mrs. Hudson said his brother was here.  Unless…  Oh, god.  There are three of you?”  John’s eyes bulged comically.

Q sighed, running his hand through his hair.  “Sherlock never told you about me, I see.  I’m Cris, the youngest.  I’m here because I have a problem that I was hoping you and Sherlock could help me with.”

John regained his composure quickly.  “Come in.  Sorry about that, mate.  It’s not like Sherlock tells me anything unless he absolutely has to.  I probably would never have known about Mycroft if the man hadn’t kidnapped me my first day here.”  John sat in an armchair near the fireplace and gestured to the one across from him, which Q gladly took.  “Do you want to wait for Sherlock?  He should be out of the shower in a few minutes.”

“That would be best, yes.  It really is his help that I need.”  They passed the time making small talk.   He asked John about his military service and marveled that this man would probably be good friends with James if they were to meet.  Hopefully having John involved would make this go smoother since he had a soldier’s mentality and might be able to deal with James better than his rather socially inept brother.  Eventually, they heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up just in time to see Sherlock enter the room.

“Crispin.  In trouble with MI6 already?  I’m proud.”  Sherlock walked past them both to fling himself on to the couch with a dramatic flop.  “Maybe you aren’t so much like our brother after all.”

“MI6?” John asked as his eyebrows jumped.  “You are from MI6?”

Q shook his head.  “No need to sound so surprised.  I’m not a field agent.  I’m the quartermaster and that is why I am here.  I need your help, Sherlock.”

“No.”

“Sherlock,” John warned, a threat evident in his voice that both Holmes brothers easily picked up on.   “What do you need help with, Cris?”

“I have an agent who I am assigned to who has gone missing.  With some help I have managed to track him to London, but he is avoiding CCTV and I cannot get any other lock on him.  I was hoping to enlist the homeless network in order to search for him.”

Sherlock’s head popped up, suddenly interested.  “MI6 lost an agent and needs me to help find him?”

Sitting forward a bit in his chair, Q shook his head, “No, I need your help finding him.  Sherlock, MI6 told me to stop looking but I can’t.  What if it was Dr. Watson?”

“John, please,” the doctor said, as Sherlock replied at the same time.

“John is perfectly capable of taking care of himself as I trust your agent is as well.  Why would I look for someone who doesn’t want to be found?”

Q smirked, knowing he had Sherlock now, “Because you are a show off, Sherlock.  Because you will never pass up an opportunity to show that you can do something that I could not do.  That _Mycroft_ could not do.  And because there is something more going on here than just a simple missing person.  Bond is many things but he does not run away easily.  You aren’t likely to let a mystery like this pass you by.”

John was grinning by the time Q was done speaking and he knew that if nothing else he had Dr. Watson on his side. 

Sherlock sat up, hands pressed together under his chin, “Mycroft wasn’t able to find him?”

“He managed to track him to London,” Q stated shaking his head, “but lost him after that.  I feel like you may be better equipped to handle this situation.” 

A silent conversation passed between Sherlock and John and Q knew his brother well enough to know that John won out.  “Fine, we’ll do it.  I will need a picture of the man to distribute among the network and John and I will be the ones to bring him in.”

“Why?” Q asked a bit stunned.  “He won’t come willingly.  If I’m there, it might make things easier.”

“No, we will call you when we find him but you will stay out of our way.  No sense in you getting hurt.”  Both Q and John stared at Sherlock, confused.  “What?  As ridiculous a concept as sentiment is, he is still my baby brother.”

Q choked out a harsh laugh and John’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline.  “Never thought I would see the day that Sherlock would admit caring about his brother.  Of course, until twenty minutes ago I thought there was only Mycroft so I guess I can be excused that.” 

Smiling at John, Q pulled up an agency photo of Bond that he had on his phone.  “Digital or print?” he asked, showing the picture to both his brother and the doctor. 

“Digital would be preferred,” Sherlock said, watching his phone intently as Q sent the message.  With nimble fingers he sent the photo out to his network of associates.  “Now we just need to wait.  They will get back to me as soon as they see him and I will contact you once we have him.”

Q stood to let himself out of the flat.  “Thank you, Sherlock.  This means a lot to me.  And Dr. Watson, it was a pleasure to meet you.  I hope we can meet again under better circumstances.”  He smiled at both of them before leaving. 

On his way down the stairs he chuckled as John’s voice floated down from the room above, “It’s nice to see that at least one of you is actually a pleasant human being.  Why can’t I be kidnapped by that one?”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Back at his flat, Q tossed his keys on the counter before logging onto his computers in his office area.  He may have agreed to let John and Sherlock do the legwork, but he was not about to let them do it unmonitored.  Between CCTV, John’s blog, and Sherlock’s obsessive need to use his phone for everything, it was ridiculously easy to follow their progress.  It was simple work to hack Sherlock’s phone, allowing all of the incoming messages to be copied to his own mobile.  After that, he set up some filters that would alert him to John or Sherlock’s presence on a CCTV camera when activated. 

It was only a matter of hours before the tips started arriving via text message and almost every one contained a photo.  It was simple enough to disregard the first few, from people with the handles ‘Thames-Ben’ and ‘Bridge-Lenore’, the subject of the picture so obviously not James it was laughable.  ‘Alley-Steve’ even sent in a picture of a woman.  Looking through Sherlock’s sent message history it was easy to figure out why they were already getting so many photos.  The reward Sherlock was offering would make a big difference in the life of any of these people and Q smiled at his brother’s generosity, even if he knew he only did it for the thrill of the case.

It was around 2AM they finally had a legitimate sighting.  A contact labeled ‘Corner-Jenn’ texted a picture along with the message:

_Spotted on South Lambeth Road 5 min ago._

Q looked at the attached photo and immediately texted Sherlock who responded just as quickly.

_That’s him.  Without a doubt. -Q_

_I don’t even want to know how you saw that picture. –SH_

_We are on our way there.  Stay away or go to Baker Street. -SH_

South Lambeth.  It was near MI6.  It seemed improbable that James was going for a debriefing, so there had to be something else going on.  If he was avoiding MI6, loitering just a few blocks away seemed reckless to say the least.   Q was impressed as he scoured all his footage of the area that Bond still managed to avoid CCTV cameras even in the middle of London.  Pulling up Bond’s files, his latest residence was listed on the other side of town but the man was notorious for ‘forgetting’ to update his information.  Actually, as far as he knew, Q himself was the one who lived closest to that location, not that anyone would know that.  He appreciated his privacy and protected it fiercely.  It was still several blocks away but Q could get there before Sherlock.  Q had promised Sherlock to stay out of it though, so instead he continued to scan the CCTV of the area and waited for his brother to arrive.

It wasn’t long before a cab pulled to a stop in front of a restaurant that Q recognized from a retirement party a few months back.  Actual retirements from MI6 are rare, causing the event to stick out in his mind.  He watched as Sherlock went one direction and John went the other.  Splitting the screen, Q followed both men though he kept his eyes mainly trained on Sherlock.  He glanced back just in time to see John dragging James out of an alley way, giving him a complete shock.  He rewound the footage but it did not give him any clue what just happened, though both men seem unharmed.  James was obviously pissed off and it appeared to be taking all of John’s strength to hold him in place.

Q was out the door and in the cab on his way to Baker Street before he received Sherlock’s message. 

_Target apprehended.  Meet us at 221B. –SH_

Realizing he would arrive early and it being near dawn, Q briefly wondered how he would get in to the flat.  He didn’t really relish the idea of sitting on the doorstep until Sherlock and John returned home.

_Key under the mat.  -SH_

After letting himself in, Q made his way upstairs as quietly as possible, not wishing to disturb Mrs. Hudson.  Sitting in the armchair he had vacated only a few hours prior, he struggled to keep his eyes open while waiting for them to arrive. 

A door slam alerted him to their presence twenty minutes later and Bond’s voice filtered up the staircase.  “Damn medics.  Never could be trusted just to go for the kill shot like a reasonable soldier.  Always trying to do no harm and save lives.  Should have known just looking at you that you aren’t the type to just kill your target, are you?”

He could hear Sherlock snicker, “Oh, Mr. Bond.  You have no idea what you are talking about.  John could easily kill you if he wanted but our client is particularly interested in your continued survival.”

Q rolled his eyes from his spot in the living room.  Sherlock seemed to be relishing his role as the bad guy, playing it up like those old spy movies they used to watch as kids. 

“I already know who your client is.  I’m not entirely sure why he wants me.  I have done what he asked so there is no reason for you to be bringing me in.”  Well, that was perplexing.  He seemed to be under the assumption that Q was someone else.  He planned to get to the bottom of that mystery by sunrise. 

A sudden bout of nerves hit him as he heard them making their way up the steps.  What if Bond didn’t want to be found?  What if he had read this whole situation wrong?  Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves he reminded himself that he was the quartermaster and it was his duty to bring the agents home.  What they did after that was not his concern.  Bond could go on his way and MI6 need never know after this meeting.  But if Bond needed help, Q was certain to give it to him.

Q heard John giggling slightly before he spoke, “I’m sure our _client_ is here by now.  He was quite anxious to see you.”  Eyes widening slightly, Q couldn’t believe that a man existed who actually enjoyed living with his brother and had such fun with their job where most people who have run screaming in terror.

Bond stumbled into the room followed by John and Sherlock.  “So where is this client of yours?” he asked as he straightened up and looked at both of them.  Sherlock inclined his head in Q’s direction, who was trying to look as if his heart wasn’t about to beat out of his chest.

James turned before stopping dead in his tracks, all colour draining from his face, “Q?”

Q stood, smiling softly, “007.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this chapter. James Bond meets Sherlock Holmes. What's not to love?

“Q,” James started tentatively, “What are you doing here?”  He glanced at John and Sherlock before looking back at Q, a hard look in his eyes and Q struggled not to flinch back from the distrust he saw there.

Sighing, Q ran a hand through his hair.  “You disappeared.  I tried to find you through more conventional means but you had vanished.  After a week, M declared you MIA and I was told to stop searching for you.  But I couldn’t stop until I knew if you were dead or alive so I enlisted some help.”  Seeing James’ concerned expression, he nodded in John and Sherlock’s direction, “Don’t worry.  They have clearance.”

John looked puzzled and Q heard Sherlock mutter “Mycroft” under his breath which caused him to smirk a little.  He always wondered if Sherlock knew that Mycroft had gotten them both clearance.  Sure made it easier for family dinners.

“And they are?”

“My brother and his flatmate.  Sherlock Holmes, John Watson meet James Bond.  Bond, this is Sherlock and John.  Sherlock is a Consulting Detective and John is his blogger as well as being a physician.” 

John smiled and stuck out his hand to shake.  Bond glared but shook his hand anyway.  “Sorry about all of that, mate.  Cris here didn’t give us much information to go on and we were concerned how you would take it.  Seemed safe for everyone if you didn’t know who you were meeting until you were already in the same room with him.”

Looking in Q’s direction, Bond raised an eyebrow and Q momentarily found it hard to breathe, looking into those ice blue eyes once again.  “Cris?” 007 asked with a smirk on his face.

Sighing in a way only a put upon younger brother can pull off, Q waved slightly, “Cris Holmes.  Youngest Quartermaster in MI6 history and under-appreciated baby brother of two genius psychopaths.”

“I’m not a psychop…”

“Yes, Sherlock I know.”  Q rolled his eyes while John snickered in the background.

Bond stood, glancing between the three men, “So you hired your brother to find me?”

“Well, technically, I asked both of my brothers to find you.  The eldest tracked you to London.  Sherlock took over from there.  He has informants all over the city, mostly in places CCTV can’t reach.”

This time it was James’ turn to run his hand through his hair, “Oh god, there’s three of you?”

“That’s what I said!” John laughed, earning him a stern glance from both Sherlock and Bond.

“Yes, Mycroft is the eldest,” Q explained.  “He’s the British government and has resources that I just don’t have, even with my position and talent.”  It felt wrong to admit to Bond that there was something he couldn’t do, but as much as he wanted to he couldn’t take credit for this all on his own. 

Cocking his head, Bond looked confused at Q’s wording, “You mean he works for the government?”

“No, he is the government.  Better just not to question it, trust me.”

“Q, you work for MI6 and the oldest of your brothers IS the government, which I don’t even want to think about right now…” James appeared to be processing out loud and Q just let him talk.  Turning to Sherlock Bond asked, “So what is your problem?  Couldn’t hack it for government work.”  Q groaned, knowing this was not going to be pretty.  What had he been thinking putting James Bond and Sherlock Holmes in the same room?  He would be lucky if his brother survived this encounter.

Sherlock straightened up looking Bond directly in the eye, completely ignoring John’s warning of ‘Sherlock…’ and Q could see the deductions falling into place.  “There is nothing wrong with me.  I just don’t have an incessant need to serve Queen and Country like some people,” he sneered.  “As for you, it is obvious that losing your parents at a young age caused you to have a deep seated desire to please a parental figure, most likely someone whom you met not long after your parent’s death.  You sought out authority first in the military, Navy would be the safest choice based on the way you carry yourself, but eventually found your way into her Majesty’s Secret Service.  A low level of sociopathy and stunted moral development led to you becoming a double-oh agent at an early age and has aided you in staying alive longer than most in your profession.”

“You gave him my file?”   Bond spun to glare at Q, shooting him a look which would have caused a lesser man to whither.  “Clearance or not, that was uncalled for.”

Q glared back at him, “I did no such thing.  This is just what he does.  Ignore him.”  They both looked at Sherlock who was looking smug and John who was covering his eyes, shaking his head. 

“I say low level of sociopathy because while you have no problem killing you still are able to form social and romantic attachments.  You generally keep people at an arm’s length, however a few have managed to get through.  I would say there have been two serious romantic relationships in your life although you have had a more numerous stream of sexual liaisons than even John, which is rather impressive.”  Sherlock ignored John’s groan and continued, “You were married once but it did not last long, perhaps you did not even make it as far as the altar.  The other was more recent but she broke your heart and you swore off relationships after that, though my baby brother here is causing you to rethink that decision.”

“SHERLOCK!”  Both Q and John interrupted the flow of words spewing from Sherlock, John looking furious while Q looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. 

“Sherlock.  Kitchen.  NOW!” John ground out, eyes shooting daggers at his flatmate, who didn’t look the least bit concerned.

“I don’t see what the problem is, John.  It’s obvious that these two have reciprocal feelings for each other, hence Crispin’s all-consuming desire to find this man.”  Sherlock continued to prattle on, John’s face getting redder by the second.

“NOW SHERLOCK,” he growled, grabbing Sherlock by the arm and forcibly dragging him from the room.

Bond and Q looked at each other, shell shocked.  The tense silence was broken by Bond, smirking as he asked “Crispin?”

“What?  At least it’s better than ‘Sherlock’ or ‘Mycroft’.  I really feel Mummy rather hated us.”  He mimicked Bond’s expression before walking over and flinging himself onto the couch, arm thrown over his eyes, where James joined him.  They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to John in the kitchen, hissing at Sherlock who kept interjecting with the occasional “But John….”  The telltale sounds of tea being made could also be heard and Q was suddenly reminded of just how tired he was.

“What is going on, 007?” he asked finally.  “You aren’t one to run away so I know there is more to it than that.  Let me help you.  Come back to MI6 with me and we will get it figured out.”

“I can’t do that, Q.  And you can’t help me.  Not with this.”  Q had never heard Bond sound so crestfallen and the emotion pulled Q forward towards the agent.

He placed his hand lightly on Bond’s knee, “Why not?”

Bond covered Q’s hand with his own, “Because it is you I’m trying to protect.”


	8. Chapter 8

Q blinked, unsure if he had heard Bond correctly or not.  “Protecting me?” he choked out, his hand unconsciously tightening on Bond’s leg. 

Before Bond could answer John and Sherlock reentered, Sherlock looking somewhat chastened, and Q once again marveled at the doctor’s impact on his brother.  “Anyone interested in tea?” John asked before glancing at their hands.  “Oh, um, sorry, we can go…”

Feeling a blush creeping up his neck, Q pulled his hand back quickly, causing James to look at him in concern before turning to address John and Sherlock.  “Actually, we should get going.  I need to debrief Q on what is going on and we have intruded on you enough.”

Sitting in his armchair, Sherlock steepled his fingers beneath his chin.  “I do not believe that to be wise.  There is obviously someone after you, Mr. Bond, and it apparently has something to do with Crispin as well.  If they know that you two have made contact, it could be dangerous for you both.  The wise move would be to stay here at 221B for the night until Mycroft can arrange more secure accommodations.”

“And where would we stay, Sherlock?  Your flat only has two bedrooms.  I’m not sleeping on the floor.  I know you and your experiments too well to trust the carpet around here.”

“If you don’t mind sharing, you can have my room upstairs.  I’ll sleep on the couch,” John offered.

Q balked, wondering if sharing a room with James Bond was really the right move, but before he could object, Bond replied. “Thank you, John.  That will work.  Now, if you will excuse us, I do need to debrief Q and, clearance or no, I would prefer to keep this within MI6.”  James stood, his large hand wrapping around Q’s bicep, pulling him to his feet as well.  “Gentlemen,” he nodded before leaving the room. 

“Sherlock, John, thank you.  Um, I’ll see you in the morning.”  He hurried after James, desperate to avoid his brother’s knowing smirk and the doctor’s concerned expression. 

The room was spacious and clean, the bed large with fresh sheets and bedding.  Q briefly wondered whether it was just Dr. Watson’s typical laundry day or if they had planned for this contingency.  Knowing Sherlock and his skill set, this was probably set up just in case they would be providing a safe house for the night.  The pillows looked soft and inviting but he pushed the thought away as he sat on the bed, removing his shoes.  Priority number one was to find out what was going on with 007, what it had to do with him, and how they could solve the problem. 

He turned to see Bond stretching out over the soft bed, eyes closed in a moment of relaxation.  Q balled his hands, nails digging in to his palms in an attempt to calm his desire to crawl over the agent and claim him for his own.  Sitting back against the headboard, he mirrored Bond’s position.  “Okay, 007.  It’s just us.  What happened in San Jose?”

Bond sighed, opening his eyes to look at Q.  There was sadness and pain, but something else that Q couldn’t quite place.  “How much do you know?”

“You and Quinn were mingling at the party.  The bodyguards took him to the VIP room and you weren’t able to get there in time.  You fought your way in, there were gunshots and then I know nothing until Mycroft found you in London yesterday.”  Twisting, Q turned to look at Bond noting just how tired the man looked, the dark circles under his eyes making the blue even brighter.

Bond nodded, not taking his eyes off a patch of ceiling far above them.  “He touched his ear piece.  I tell them time and again not to.  It was only a matter of time before it got one of them killed.  They saw him, the bodyguards.  They saw him touch his ear and took him to see Torbett.  I got in there as fast as I could but he was already dead.  They shot him point blank the second the door closed behind him.”  Bond shook his head slightly, probably trying to clear the image of the young programmer crumpled on the floor.

“I had no time to react.  By the time I walked through the door, one man had my hands behind my back and one had a gun to my head.  I was handcuffed and set in a chair to have a ‘chat’ with Torbett.”  Q could picture it clearly, having read a report with a similar scenario involving Bond and the Silva-Skyfall incident.   “They destroyed my earpiece almost immediately.  Sorry about that, by the way.  I had meant to return something to you this time.  One by one, they removed the trackers from my person.  I had no idea you kept that many on me at one time.  I was told there were signal dampeners in the room so there would be no way the trackers were working anyway.  If you weren’t able to find anything after I went through the door, I have to assume they were telling the truth.”

Q nodded solemnly, “Well that explains that, at least to begin with.  I lost all trace of you almost immediately.  I assumed there was a blocker of some sort but we weren’t able to find any when they did a scan of the room after you vanished.  Still doesn’t explain the internal transmitters, though.  I should have found you again the moment you left San Jose.”

Bond sighed, “I’m getting to that.  After they disarmed me, I was left alone in the room with Torbett.  He knew who I was, had my old Navy file as well as some information from MI5 and the CIA.  He’s a clever hacker, Q.  The information he found were things I thought hidden or destroyed long ago.  From what I can tell, he wasn’t able to penetrate your firewalls at MI6, but he must have had other sources.  He knew about M.  He knew about Vesper.  He knew…”

Eyebrows scrunching in concern, Q reached out to lay a hand on Bond’s shoulder.  “Bond, you have to tell me.  How can I help unless I have all the information?  Give me the information and I can get at him.  I just need to know everything you can tell me.”

“He knew about you.  He knew about the clever new Quartermaster at MI6.  He had your personal information; your name, family, address.  Torbett never told me any of it directly, just held it over my head that he knew more than I did.  That there was information you would never share with me due to the nature of our work.  I guess you proved him wrong tonight.”

“Bond,” Q started, unsure where he was going with this thought.  “What did it matter that he knew this information?  I can’t imagine you had given much thought to my family situation prior to this event.  So what was the point of him taunting you with it?”

007’s eyes turned hard, before melting into sorrow once again, “Don’t you get it, Q?  He was proving he could get to you.  There have only been a few people in my life who I have trusted, let in.  M.  Vesper.  There is only one person still alive who I trust with everything I am.  And Torbett proved that he had the power, the information, to take that person from me as well.  So I had two options.  I could “die” again.  Disappear.  Retire and walk away from MI6.  Or I could choose to fight.  To continue the mission.  If I was to do that, you wouldn’t be there when I got back to London.   I couldn’t lose another one, Q.  I’ve lost too much already.”

Frozen in place, Q could only stare as he processed what James had just told him.   Torbett had threatened HIM.  Not James.  Not MI6.  Not England.  Q.  And that was James’ Achilles heel?  That can’t be.  “But…” Turning to look at James, the question on his face, “Me?”  Q blinked rapidly, “Why?  What?  Me?”

James chuckled humourlessly, “I finally found a way to make the non-stop chatter stop.”  He sat up, placing a hand on Q’s knee, mimicking Q’s pose from the couch downstairs.  “Yes, you.  Is that such a surprise?  You are the one in my ear telling me all those inane facts that no one in their right mind would care about.  You are the one who opens the sealed doors, letting me get through just a few seconds sooner.  You have saved my life and the mission twice now, and I want it to be many more.”

“I’m also the one who almost got you run over by a train, if you had forgotten.”

“Well, yes.  You do add a bit more excitement to my life as well.  Because I am so lacking in that.”  James chuckled before laying back down, hands behind his head.  “Somehow Torbett knew about my feelings for you.  Your brother was right.  After Vesper I swore never to get close emotionally to another person.  And then you came along, with your cardigans and hair and glasses and the ridiculous know-it-all attitude and it wore me down.  I never even realized it until it was too late.”

Tentatively reaching out his hand, Q grasped Bond’s in his own.  “I feel the same way, you know.  Have for a long time.”  The warmth that radiated from Bond’s normally cold eyes warmed him to the very center of his being.  “But we have to figure out what to do about Torbett.  He’s still out there.  I tracked him to Prague before the trail went cold.  I’m assuming there’s a plan.”

“I needed time to figure one out.  I’m not giving up this mission so easily.  But I needed to make sure you were safe first, so I did what he asked.  I ‘died’ and disappeared.  Cut all contact.  I was hoping you would allow M to close my file.  Should have known you would be as stubborn about my death as you are about everything else.”

Q squeezed his hand, “Just one of my many charming traits.  So the fact that I tracked you down and had you dragged to my brother’s house in the middle of the night changes the plan?”

Bond nodded.  “I would think so.  He knew who your family was so I’m certain that there is someone watching this flat.  That means that they know we have made contact so you are in danger.  I don’t want you to go anywhere without me or someone from MI6.  Call M in the morning and tell him there has been a threat against your life.  Follow the protocols.  Stay alive.  Once I take care of Torbett we can sort the rest out.”

“Or I can help you.  You are going to need me.  If he has technology at his fingertips, wouldn’t it be good to have someone who can attack him where he is most vulnerable?  Let me help, James.”

Both sets of eyebrows jumped.  Q had never called Bond his first name before and the genuine smile that spread across 007’s face made Q vow to do it much more often.  “Alright.  But you will stay someplace safe and help me remotely.  Nowhere he can get close to you.”

Q nodded, agreeing to the terms.  “First things first, what happened with the radio transmitter?  The one in your shoulder?  It should have started working again after you left the restaurant that night.”

James sat up and began unbuttoning his shirt.  Turning so his feet were off the side of the bed, he let the shirt fall from his shoulders.  Q gasped at the still-raw, jagged wound on his shoulder. 

“I had to be dead, remember.   This was the best way to convince you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this chapter is the reason for the M rating. If that is not your thing, read the first few chapters and then move on. If it is your thing, ENJOY.

Q reached out tentatively, but stopped himself before he actually touched Bond’s skin.  “What happened?”

“I told you.  I had to be dead.  They cut the tracker from me.  I knew there was no way you would believe I was truly gone if there was still a signal, so it had to go.  Thankfully I know doctors around the world who do not ask questions and I got it taken care of.”  He glanced over his shoulder, “Don’t look at me like that Q; I do know how to take care of myself.  I couldn’t reach it to do the stitches so I had to enlist some help.”

Slowly, Q moved closer, until he rested his hands on Bond’s shoulders, thumb trailing down past the mark.  “You did all of this for me?” he asked, his voice sounding small in the room.  Bending forward, he placed a light kiss just above the now healing wound and his heart leapt at the sound of Bond’s soft sigh.

Bond dropped his shirt on the ground, turning to look at Q with lust blown blue eyes.  “Yes.  And I would do it again.  I was telling the truth.  I can’t lose another person I trust.  Death is part of this job, Q.  I knew that when I took it.  But the last few years have been hard and I won’t go through it again.  Not with you.”  And with that, he leaned forward, his lips barely brushing Q’s in a chaste kiss.

His heart felt about to beat out of his chest and he grabbed one of Bond’s hands, placing it on his neck so the man could feel his pulse, feel what that one soft kiss was doing to him.  Bond tightened his grip, pulling Q toward him and they slid down onto the bed, Bond partially covering Q with his own body.  Breaking apart, they rested their foreheads together, sharing their breath.  James brought his hand up to cup Q’s cheek.  “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

Q nodded, leaning into the touch, “Me too.  I knew the moment we met that you would change my life.”  Pulling James down, he pressed their lips together, hand sliding up into Bond’s short hair.  It was softer than it looked and he smiled into the kiss as he twisted his fingers in the blonde strands.   Soon Bond’s tongue was teasing the seam of his lips and when he finally parted them, granting him entrance, they both moaned at the increased sensation. 

Bond tasted of cheap coffee, tobacco as well as something spicy and exotic Q couldn’t quite place.  Mixed with Bond’s own masculine flavor it shouldn’t have been appealing but Q believed it to be the best taste in the world.  As their tongues slid against each other, Q smiled as he felt Bond begin to unbutton his shirt and was thankful that he left the cardigan at home today.

Strong hands slid the shirt open as Bond broke the kiss and Q looked up to see Bond’s face almost unrecognizable with awe.  His hands traced the lines of Q’s body with near reverential tenderness.  Under his gaze, Q felt small and embarrassed.  “I know I’m not as good looking as you are, um, used to,” Q mumbled, looking away, afraid to meet Bond’s eyes.

“You are gorgeous,” Bond whispered.  “You may not be what I am used to but you are what I want.  So much it hurts.”

Not needing to hear more, Q pulled him down for another kiss with one hand while the other traveled to his trouser fastenings.   Making quick work of the belt and button, he slowly unzipped the zipper, the sound almost too much in the quiet room. 

One of Bond’s hands stroked through Q’s hair and he had to try hard not to literally purr at the touch.  Instead, he sighed, eyes falling closed.  They reopened as he felt Bond remove his glasses, putting them on the bed side table.  Q frowned slightly as he tried focus on Bond’s face but without his glasses, Bond was rather fuzzy, though his stunning blue eyes still clear, even in the dimness.  “I would know you anywhere, just based off your eyes, James,” Q murmured, bringing one hand up to caress Bond’s face. 

“And I would know you, Cris, just based off your neck,” was Bond’s reply which prompted Q to pull back in surprise.  “Are you surprised by your name or your neck?” Bond asked, concern laced in his voice.

“You saying my name is amazing, James.  Trust me, I never thought I would hear it from your lips and it is better than I imagined.  But my neck?”  Q arched an eyebrow.

James brought his hand back to Q’s face, dragging it slowly down his jawline.  “Yes, your neck.  So long and lean,” he murmured as he bent forward to brush his lips against Q’s pulse point.  “It looks so pale under all that dark hair.  You don’t know how often I have wanted to walk up behind you and taste it.  A kiss, a lick, a nip.  Something, just to feel that perfect skin against my lips.  Classic and refined, standing out against your rather atrocious choices in clothing.”

Q was practically keening with pleasure at Bond’s words and ministrations until one phrase stopped him short.  He pulled back, glaring half heartedly, “It was going so well for you until you insulted my clothing, I’ll have you know….”  He never finished the thought as a grinning Bond kissed him once more.  Q returned his hands to Bond’s trousers, working them off his hips as Bond did the same for his own. 

Their legs tangled together, erections hot and tight between their bodies, just two thin layers of cotton separating them.  No words were needed, lips saying everything they needed silently, punctuated by tiny gasps and moans.  Bond slid his hands over Q’s arse, pulling his pants down in the process.  With practiced fingers, he removed the article of clothing, tossing it aside before taking Q in hand.  Q’s body arched and he cried out softly at the touch of that hand to his cock.  He struggled to rid Bond of his pants as well and, taking Bond’s hand, he wrapped their fingers around both erections.  They stroked each other together; lips rarely parting save for a moment to kiss jaws, ears, necks. 

Q held off for just long enough to see James tumble over the edge first and he tried desperately to memorize the image in front of him.  The way Bond’s eyes crinkled in pleasure.  The way his mouth fell open as he gasped Q’s name.  How utterly, breathtakingly beautiful he was in that moment and the fact that Q was the one to bring him there.  That thought brought Q tumbling into the avalanche of sensation, his orgasm overtaking him as Bond stroked him through it, pressing kisses to his face and lips. 

Grabbing some tissues from beside the bed, Bond cleaned them both gently before gathering Q in his arms.  Q struggled to keep his eyes open but continued kissing James, the other man’s lips softly pushing and pulling against his own, until Q drifted off.  There was still a lot of work for them to do, but for the moment there was peace.


	10. Chapter 10

Q woke to sunlight streaming through the window and was amused and horrified to find himself wrapped around a sleeping secret agent like a limpet.  James’ hand was wrapped around his hip possessively and Q couldn’t resist pressing a kiss the shoulder nearest him.  While Q wanted to stay there forever in the peaceful cocoon they had carved out for themselves, there was work to be done so grudgingly he pulled himself from the bed, careful to not wake Bond.  He was unsure how long it had been since the agent had slept properly and he was loathe to disturb him.  Smiling at him one last time, Q pulled on his trousers and shirt and slipped from the room as quietly as possible.

Carefully he made his way downstairs, unsure if John was still asleep in the living room.  Noise from the kitchen drew him in that direction and he peered into the room to see John making tea while Sherlock fiddled with an experiment on the table.  “Good morning, Crispin,” Sherlock said, amusement lacing his voice.  “I trust you slept well.”

“Sherlock, leave him alone.  Neither of them had probably slept in weeks.”  John glanced over his shoulder, “Tea, Cris?”

Q nodded to John, pointedly ignoring his brother, “I would love some Earl Grey if you have any.”

“I was not referring to actual sleep, John.  I was talking about the sexual encounter they shared before that, which appears to have been mutually satisfying if that love bite on Crispin’s neck is any indication.”  Q could feel the blush on his cheeks and raised a hand up to feel where he believed the love bite to be. 

John set Q’s tea down in front of him while glaring at his flatmate, “Sherlock, we talked about this.  Timing.”

Cursing his luck, Q watched James come into the kitchen at that moment wearing only his trousers, probably having heard the whole conversation that had just taken place.  Nerves took him suddenly, pooling in his now unsettled stomach.  What if James changed his mind?  What if he didn’t?  How were they supposed to act?  What did Bond expect from him?  These questions and more raced through his head to the point that he near jumped when James placed his hands on his shoulders.

“Coffee if you have it,” James was saying and Q tipped his head back to look at the man standing behind him.  “Morning, Q,” Bond smiled.

Q’s smile of relief and happiness was bright enough to light the room and he raised a hand to grasp James’ on his shoulder, “Good morning, James.”

“Oh, please.  As if I don’t have enough of that from John and his girlfriends.  And it is perhaps more sickening considering it involves my brother.” Sherlock glared from over his microscope.  “Will you two be staying for the rest of the day?”

James squeezed Q’s shoulder before letting go to accept his coffee from John.  “No, I’m going to get Q to MI6 safely and then we have some work to do.  We have reason to believe his flat may be compromised as well as this one, so we don’t want to stay and put anyone else in danger.  Once we’re dressed, we will be out of your hair.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” John asked as Sherlock appeared completely uninterested in the conversation.

James shook his head, but Q spoke up, “Actually could you pick up some clothes for us?  If I can’t go back to my flat, I would at least like something clean to wear.  Sherlock, would one of the homeless network be able to drop them at a specific location?”  On a note, Q scribbled down the necessary sizes as well as an address.  “This is an MI6 secure location for the movement of property.  It is far enough removed from headquarters that no one should suspect either Bond’s or my involvement. “

John nodded and took the note, “We can take care of that.  I’ll run out and get some after you leave.  They should be there in a few hours.  For just Cris, or Bond too?”

Q glanced at Bond who only shrugged.  “Better get it for both of us.  If they know where I live, they have his address as well.  Plus then we can go right to headquarters and get to work.”

“And how are you going to get there?” Sherlock asked, looking up once more from his microscope.  “If you are a target, cabs and the tube are not going to be smart choices.  Walking is impractical and I doubt Bond’s car is accessible at the moment.”

Bond and Q shared a look, neither having thought that far ahead.  “We could call MI6?  Or we could call Mycroft,” Q suggested.

“Your brother would probably be the safer option.  We don’t want Torbett to know that we have been in contact with MI6 for as long as possible.”

Sherlock stood abruptly, “If you are calling Mycroft, I do not want to be here when he arrives.  Too much family time already.  John, if you need me, I will be at the morgue. “ With that he swanned out of the room.

“Don’t mind him,” John apologized.  “He’s a prat.  If you guys don’t need anything else, I may slip out now and get your clothes.”

Q smiled at him, “Thank you, John.  I apologize for intruding on your lives.  I just didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

John patted Q on the back, “Don’t mention it.  If you ever need anything, feel free to call or text.  I’ll leave you my number.”

James thanked John as well and they both watched as John ran upstairs to change clothes.  When they heard the door downstairs close behind him on his way out, Q motioned for James to go shower while he cleaned up their cups.  By the time Q was done in the kitchen and had texted Mycroft asking for a ride, who grudgingly agreed, James was just coming out of the bathroom.

“Mycroft will be here in 10 minutes.  I’m going to take a quick shower and be right out,” Q explained, attempting to slip past Bond and into the loo.   Bond’s arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. 

“When this is all done, we are going to do this properly.  I meant what I said last night.  I have wanted you for so long and I’m not going to lose you.”  In response, Q pressed his lips to James’, conveying all his emotion through that one kiss.

Bond broke the kiss lightly, with several small pecks before pulling apart completely.  “Go shower,” he said, patting Q on the arse.  “Your brother will be here soon.”

Q nodded, a grin on his face, as he closed the door behind him.  He showered quickly before putting on his clothes from the night before and they were downstairs, just outside the door when the black car pulled up in front of them.

“Brace yourself, James,” Q told him, reaching over to squeeze his hand lightly before letting go.  “If you think Sherlock is bad, just wait until you meet Mycroft.” 


	11. Chapter 11

Leading the way, Q reached the car first and held the door open for James, who climbed in with one last glance at Q.  Q’s lip quirked and he followed James in, offering a silent prayer that this car ride be short and painless.  Settling next to Bond, Q attempted a smile at Mycroft and his assistant, who were seated across from them.

“Mycroft, it’s nice to see you again.” He smiled, hoping it didn’t look too forced.  James laid his hand next to Q’s, interlacing their pinky fingers, giving him that small amount of support.  “And Kara, how are you today?”

Not even looking up from her mobile, she responded, “Kami.  It’s Kami today.”  Bond raised an eyebrow at Q, who gave him a quick head shake.  No one understood what was up with that woman and her names.  Those who were acquainted with her had long ago stopped trying to figure it out.

“Crispin,” Mycroft said coolly, “And this must be your agent.”  His eyes glanced over James, taking in every detail.

James extended his hand, “Bond.  James Bond.  Thank you for helping Cris.  It means the world to me.” 

“Yes, Mr. Bond.  I have read your file.  You have served Queen and Country well and for that I must thank you.”  Bond smiled slightly under the praise, but Q knew James well enough to tell that Bond understood more was coming and was bracing himself for the attack.  “However, I am not sure how I feel about your association with my brother.  On a professional level I am certain Crispin here, though the youngest, is the best Quartermaster you have ever worked with.  But, due to his age, I believe he may be overly infatuated with you and I do hope you are not leading him on.  According to your file, you tend to leave a trail of broken hearts and broken bodies in your wake.”

Q’s spine stiffened at hearing Mycroft’s words.  “My, that’s enough,” he ground out, teeth pressed so tightly together he worried one might crack.  “You gave up your chance to worry about me when you practically disowned me for taking the job at MI6.”

“It was for your own good, Crispin.  As is this.  I do not think you understand who this man truly is.  What he has to do in order to complete his missions.”

Sensing Bond tense next to him, and not relishing explaining to Mummy how Mycroft was killed for being an insensitive prat, Q glared across the car and, dropping his voice, he conveyed all the menace he was feeling, “Mycroft Holmes, I am his Quartermaster.  I am his eyes and ears in the field.  I know everything there is to know about his job, possibly even more than he does. But beyond that, I am 32 years old.  I am my own man.  What I do for a living is not your concern.  Who I love is not your concern.  And if this is what we will have to endure to get any help out of you, you can consider the bond between us well and truly broken.”

Q was ready to continue when a hand on his silenced him.  He looked over at Bond who had a rather murderous look on his face and just nodded once, understanding.  “Mr. Holmes, I have been informed what you do for a living and while I do not understand completely, I am pretty sure I get the basic idea.  However, as Cris said, our relationship is not your concern.  What happens between us is our business and our business alone.  If you feel the need to get between us again, I will be forced to take action.  You have my read my file.  You know what I am capable of.  But, as you are his older brother, I will tell you I have no intention of hurting him due to any of my own actions.  Obviously in our line of work, things may happen but there is nothing either of us can do about that.”

Turning his hand over, Q squeezed Bond’s before releasing him and bringing his hand back to his lap.  “Mycroft, we need some help.  If you can’t provide it, then I will find some other way.  But you have to stop meddling.  I know it’s what you do best but it needs to end.  Now.”

Mycroft nodded, looking disappointed and Q was sure this was not the end of the argument, just a temporary cease fire.  “Alright Crispin.  Then what do you need?”

“We need a place to stay.  My flat has definitely been compromised, as has 221B and your home as well.  We have to assume James’ flat is also under observation.  I will need safe transportation to and from work.  And I will need you to find everything you can about Bernard Torbett.  He needs to be eliminated and soon.”  Mycroft glanced at Kami who simply nodded and continued typing on her phone, which reminded Q,  “One of my first priorities when I get back to work will be new phones for James and myself as well as tracking to make sure that Sherlock, John, and your own phones are clean.  If we are going to be in communication, I want it to be untrackable.  James’ life may depend on it.”

Bond looked at Q somberly, “Yours as well.  You are the one he threatened after all.”

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow and even Kami looked up from her mobile.  “Thanks, James,” Q muttered under his breath. 

The rest of the ride was spent with Q updating his brother and assistant on the case and what was going on.   Mycroft had many questions about Torbett and his network, questions Q wasn’t yet prepared to answer.  It was just one more thing that they would need to figure out if they were going to finish this mission.

Just before they pulled up to MI6, Mycroft asked, “Mr. Bond, you are currently listed as deceased/MIA.  Will you be changing your status back to active?”

James shook his head.  “I think it would be best if I stayed dead for the time being.  If you could help keep my survival a secret, I feel it would be beneficial to both of us.”

The car came to a stop inside the parking garage above the MI6 bunkers.  As they opened the door, Mycroft replied solemnly, “Understood, Mr. Bond.  This will be kept in the utmost confidence.  Just keep Crispin, and yourself, safe.”


	12. Chapter 12

Q led Bond through the seldom used back hallways of MI6.  They were still in the process of retrofitting the entire tunnel system, a project that was going to take years.  Most people stayed away from the not yet modernized tunnels on the far edges of headquarters, but Q went back there frequently, running wires and enjoying the solitude.  As such, he knew the shortcuts well and was able to get them to M’s office with a minimal amount of witnesses.

One witness was unfortunately Eve who was at her desk when the two walked into the office. 

“James!” she exclaimed, shocked.

“Moneypenny!” Bond mimicked back at her, an amused twinkle in his eye.

Pushing back from her desk, she stood glaring daggers at Bond.  “Where the hell have you been, 007?  Do you know what you put us through?  What you put your Quartermaster through?  He didn’t eat or sleep for almost a week while he was busy trying to track you down.”  Bond looked over at Q, and Q knew they would be having words about him taking care of himself but he glared back knowing that now was not the time or place.  “You could have called.  You could have let someone know.  But no, you were probably off on a beach somewhere with some beautiful woman in your bed never once thinking about the people left behind to worry about you.”

At some point during her rant, Eve had left her desk and was standing in front of Bond, finger on his chest, looming over him slightly with her sky-high heels.   A lesser man would have been cowed by her, but Bond stood his ground.  “Not this time.  The mission isn’t over and I need to talk to M.  Now.  You can yell at me later.  Just have Q deactivate your weapon first.” 

Sensing his urgency, Moneypenny nodded and buzzed them through to M’s office. 

Glancing up from his paperwork, M looked calm and unsurprised to see the supposedly dead double-oh walk in to his office, Quartermaster following close behind.  “I see you survived after all.  Pity for Richardson down in Transportation.  He actually bet me that you were indeed deceased this time.  Guess I will be enjoying that Talisker.  Sit down.”

Bond and Q took seats opposite M, who sat waiting for one of them to start.  When no one volunteered information, M sighed and sat forward in his seat.  “Q, I thought I told you to stop looking for 007.  In fact, I believe that was a direct order.”

“You did, sir,” Q nodded.  “I took the order to mean that I was not allowed to use agency resources to continue my search and I have not.  Nor have I spent any time on it during working hours.  I have some connections with whom I called in a favour.  They did most of the work and just called me to let me know when the job was done.”

M pursed his lips but said no more which Q took as a sign that he was forgiven.  Turning to Bond, M asked, “So where have you been?  Cuba?  Fiji?  Someplace warm and exotic I am sure.  Just didn’t feel like checking in right away?”

“London, sir.”

“Really?  It’s unusual for you to come back home and hide from us.  Why was it that Q was unable to track you down if you have been here the whole time?”

Between them, Bond and Q explained the situation with Torbett and his threat against Q.  They explained to M that Torbett found Q to be something of an adversary and knew that by taking him out it would set MI6 back several years.  M listened without asking any questions.  At the end, he simply nodded and asked, “So what do you need?”

“I need to finish this mission.  I need to make sure Q is safe to go back to his flat.  To do that, I am going to need a new weapon, new intelligence, and I will need to remain dead.  I’m hoping that we have managed to avoid him today and he will not realize that we came here and are working within MI6 again.   I want this mission to be completely unofficial and off the books until it is complete.”

“Torbett does not seem to have been able to penetrate my security system here at MI6, but he may have an informant feeding him information,” Q explained, jumping in when Bond finished.  “I have received alerts regarding someone attempting to hack in but they have not yet gotten through.  However, some of the information he gave 007 seems to indicate he has a source on the inside.  For 007 to complete the mission we need as few people as possible to know what we are doing.”

“Alright.  You two get together the information and supplies you need.  Bond, there are some empty offices in the back area that Q can show you.  Until you are ready to go after Torbett it would be best if you stay back there.  No one but Q really goes back there so as far as anyone within MI6 is concerned you are dead.  The only ones who will know differently are those of us in this office and Miss Moneypenny.  Keep me informed.”

Taking their dismissal, Q and Bond left the office.  As soon as the door shut between them Eve pulled James into a big hug.  “Don’t do that again.  None of us can take it.”  He smiled and nodded then followed Q to the door.  On their way out, they heard her call to them, “And don’t think we aren’t going to talk about what is going on between you two.  I may not be the world’s best field agent but I have eyes.”

As they made their way to the abandoned tunnels that James would be calling home for the rest of the day, they chuckled about Eve’s perceptiveness and how she was going to take the news that the nation’s best double-oh agent was shagging his Quartermaster.  “Ah, but there has been no shagging yet.  Who’s to say it won’t be me shagging you, after all?” Q asked with a snicker. 

Q started to walk off, heading to Q-Branch to begin his searches for Torbett and work on Bond’s new weapon, when the agent wrapped his arms around Q’s skinny waist, pulling him close.  “When this is all done, I am not going to let you leave the flat for at least a week.  You just need to decide your place or mine.” 

Q kissed him soundly, running his hands through Bond’s hair before breaking apart with one last peck on the lips.   “I’ll see you in a few hours, 007.”

Walking into Q-Branch, Q could already sense something was off.  The technicians were tense, everyone hunched over their computers with no sound except for the incessant typing of their keyboards.  Looking at his desk, he immediately saw the problem.

“Mr. Holmes, what a surprise,” he muttered, walking up to shake Mycroft’s hand as if he were a visiting dignitary and not an overbearing older brother.

“Q,” Mycroft greeted with an obvious distaste at the title, “I have the information you requested.  The requisitioned items that Captain Watson was to deliver are in your office.  Everything you need is contained in this folder.  I will be at our appointed location at 5PM.”  Handing over the large envelope, he turned and left the room, every head in the department following his movements.

“Was that your father, sir?” a technician asked, watching Mycroft stroll away. 

Q shook his head, exasperated, “No, worse.  That was the British government.” 


	13. Chapter 13

Two days passed before they received any signal from Torbett.  Finally he made a mistake, using a credit card in his own name at a small pub outside of Dublin.  Q worried that it was a trap, but it was the only sign they had had since Bond’s return and it needed to be checked out immediately.  As soon as the report came in, Q grabbed the case underneath his desk and ran to the back hallways looking for 007.    
  
“Bond, we have a hit.  You are going to Dublin.”  Bond looked relieved.  Q knew he had been going stir crazy in the back by himself.  Several of the walls had sustained damage from when he got bored and taken it out on the infrastructure.    
  
“Dublin is good.  I can be there in less than two hours and still be home in time for supper.”  Q could only hope he was right, but where 007 was concerned things were rarely that easy.  
  
Smiling at him, Q opened the case he was carrying.  “Standard issue Walther.  Nothing new there.  Still activated by you and only you.  Please try to bring it back in one piece.”  
  
“And what will you give me if I do?” The agent leered to which Q only rolled his eyes.  When Q pulled out the next item, Bond’s eyes widened with excitement.  “Is that what I think it is?”  
  
Q chuckled, “Yes.  I made you an exploding pen.  Consider it an ‘I’m glad you aren’t dead. Don’t do that to me again, you bastard.’ present.”  He handed the innocent looking ballpoint to Bond.  “To activate, click the top.  After you do that you have 10 seconds to throw it and get out of the way.  Use it wisely because that is the only one you are going to get.”  Bond grabbed it from his hand, looking for all intents like a child on Christmas morning.    
  
Pulling out the last item in the case, Q started to hand it to James.  “And of course, you know what this is.”  
  
“NO!” Bond said forcefully enough to cause Q to jump slightly.  “No radios.  No trackers.  I want this to be done completely in the dark.”  
  
“And why do you think I would agree to something like that?  I’m not letting you go out there without some way for me to know if you are alright.”  
  
James took his hand, stroking his thumb over Q’s wrist.  “You are just going to have to trust me.  He found every tracker you had on me, including the ones I didn’t even know about.  I can’t take the risk that he will be able to detect them and know I am coming.  Please, Cris.  You have to trust that I will do this and come back.”  
  
Q shook his head slightly but they both knew he was agreeing.  “Then you are going to have to trust that I will follow you, tracker or no.  I’m not going to lose you again, James.”  
  
Bond simply nodded and gave him a quick kiss.  “I’m coming back.  I will see you in a few hours and we can go on with our lives.  I promise.”  
  
“You better,” Q replied sadly.  “Now go before I change my mind.”    
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Bond’s trip to Dublin was uneventful and he arrived in good time.  While Q did not have a tracker on him, he had hacked the mobile network to be able to follow Bond’s mobile.  As long as the man kept it on him, Q would know where he was.  The first plan of action was for Bond to head to the pub where they got the first alert.  It would be a long shot considering it had been several hours since the card was used, but it was the first and only lead they had.  Q was confident that Bond was good enough at his job that he would find something to get them to Torbett.  
  
As expected there was no sign of him at the pub, even after Bond broke down several doors to what turned out to be a small office and the storage closet.  He managed to get a tip that the man may be staying at the hotel two blocks away so that was Bond’s next stop.  Q managed everything remotely, Bond calling in on his secure mobile to let him know each new development.   
  
Q cursed the fact that there was no information in the MI6 systems for any known aliases of Bernard Torbett.  He wasn’t registered at that inn, but with over 200 guests it would take time to get the backgrounds on each one to determine if Torbett was indeed hiding there.  The computer got to work and Q sat back, waiting for results.  
  
He nearly jumped when his phone rang. It was late enough that no one else was left in the department.  “James,” he said, relieved as he answered the phone.  “Tell me you have good news for me.”  
  
“Nothing yet.  I’m checking into the hotel for the night.  I’ll do some searching.  You should go home and get some rest.  I’ll call if there are any developments.  And knowing you, you already have a lock on my location so you will know if I move.”  
  
Chuckling, Q agreed, “Fine, I’ll go home.  But you promise to be safe and call if you need me.”  
  
“Will do.  Get some sleep, Q.”  
  
“You too, 007.”  
  
Q shut down his work station and made his way to the waiting car.  After the first day, Mycroft had stopped coming, so Q thought nothing of it when he got into the back of the car and Mycroft was nowhere in sight.  Sending texts to James about possible locations in Dublin to check in the morning, Q barely paid attention to the scenery around him.  However, when he glanced up he had to stop and look around.    
  
“Excuse me,” he said to the driver, “I think we are going the wrong way.”  The driver didn’t look back or acknowledge him.  “Excuse me.  Stop this car!”  Q immediately started sending out [a] tracking beacon from his phone to headquarters as well as a text to James.    
  
“Your phone won’t work sir,” the driver said as he pulled the car to a stop.    
  
“And why is that?” Q asked working to find a way around the blocking signal while positioning himself to fight or run if necessary.  
  
Q tried the door but found it locked.  The driver exited the vehicle and came around to open it for him.  “Because Mr. Torbett wanted to talk to you alone.”  
  
Ready for this moment, Q kicked at the driver before trying to make a run for it.  He wasn’t as proficient as he should be at self-defense and hand to hand combat.  ‘I’ll need to have James train me on that if I get out of this,’ he thought to himself as he dodged the driver’s hands.    
  
With almost one hundred meters between him and the car, he thought he was going to get away before something sharp hit him in the back and he fell to his knees.  The last thing he remembered before everything went black was a deep voice, “Crispin Holmes.  We meet at last.”


	14. Chapter 14

Q’s eyes blinked open and he looked around desperate for any clue as to where he was.  Everything seemed fuzzy and dim, causing him to rub his eyes and blink a few more times before realizing the his glasses must have been lost after he was, what?  Drugged?  Tasered?  He wasn’t sure.  All he knew was that he was groggy and disoriented and his whole body ached, though some parts hurt more than others.  Closing his eyes, he took stock of his injuries.  Definitely a contusion where he was hit from behind with whatever it was that knocked him out.  Bruised knees.  Possible head injury.  The worst was his left wrist, definitely broken, probably from trying to stop himself as he fell.  Scrapes and scratches on the palms of his hands but nothing he couldn’t deal with.

Using his right hand, he patted down the ridiculous amount of pockets in the clothing that John and brought for him.   It wasn’t John’s fault that Q hadn’t been specific, but the dark jeans, the casual grey button up, and most especially the trench coat were not his style and he felt particularly ridiculous wearing the outfit.  All of the pockets were empty, which was unsurprising.  Any criminal worth their salt would have taken his mobile from him.   But they had not taken the belt from the coat which was more important at the moment.  Using it as a bandage, he wrapped it tightly around the broken wrist, attempting to stabilize it.   The door opened as he secured the band in place.

“Mr. Holmes, I see you are awake,” said the deep voice.  Q blinked in the direction of the voice.  His vision was fuzzy without his glasses but without a doubt the man standing in front of him was Bernard Torbett.  “Sorry about your welcome, but I couldn’t have you injuring any of my employees or contacting your agency.”

“My name is Q, Torbett,” Q growled, getting to his feet.  He was still woozy from whatever they had hit him with, but he would not let the man have the advantage of looming over him.  “So you have me here.  Why haven’t you killed me yet?” 

The way Torbett chuckled sent chills down Q’s spine.  The man was obviously more unbalanced that they had believed and no longer had anything left to lose.  That was a dangerous combination.  “I’ll get there, dear Crispin.  But first, I would like your agent to arrive.  By now he should have figured out that you have been taken and is on his way back to rescue you.  His damsel in distress.”  Bristling at the words, Q forced himself not to attack the man then and there.  He was hardly defenseless, but without his glasses or his tech Torbett clearly had the advantage.  “So, I’m going to keep you here until we can bring in Mr. Bond.  Then I will kill you slowly and painfully while he is forced to watch before I put him out of his misery as well.”

Q clenched and unclenched his fists in an effort to restrain himself as he watched Torbett make his way to a table in the center of the room.  “Here is a beverage for you during your stay.  It will quench your thirst and keep you alive, but will also render you unconscious for several hours.  I anticipate you will be here for several days so the choice is yours whether you partake or not.  Feel free to die of dehydration if you prefer that to torture.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have some other business to attend to.   I will be seeing you again soon, Mr. Holmes.”

As the door closed behind him, Q took some time to observe his surroundings.  From what he could tell it was one of the old tunnels under London, similar to the tunnels where MI6 was currently headquartered.  Walking the distance of the room, Q found it completely blocked at both ends with no windows.  The curved cement walls were smooth with few cracks or notches, making it impossible to climb and look for an escape higher up.  The floor was immaculate, with no rocks or sticks for use as weapons. 

It was warm in the room, but not unbearably so. Q removed his coat and set it on the ground before sitting with his back against the cool cement wall.  He rolled up his sleeves and hoped Bond would get there in time.  James would know it was a trap and would plan accordingly.  He only hoped 007 wouldn’t blow up the tunnel until Q himself was out of it. 

Time passed slowly and Q had no idea how long he had been there.  With no phone and no watch, not to mention being underground with no windows, it was impossible to tell if he had been in the tunnel for minutes, hours, or possibly even days.  He attempted to come up with some escape plans but Torbett seemed to have thought of everything and Q cursed his situation.  He was thirsty, hungry, tired, and trapped underground by a madman.  This day could not be going worse. 

After what seemed like days, he could no longer deny that he would need to drink whatever was in that pitcher.  There appeared to be ventilation coming from somewhere in the tunnel so suffocation would not be a problem, making dehydration his biggest concern at this point.  But did he risk drinking something he knew to be drugged?   His heart was racing, his mouth was dry and he couldn’t remember the last time he had urinated, all signs that he was severely dehydrated.  He could either die of thirst or render himself unconscious and hope that he was allowed to live while he lay there defenceless. 

Saying a quick prayer to whoever may be listening and hoping James got to him soon, he took a glass of the clear liquid.  Not knowing how soon the effects would take place, he brought it with him to the trench coat so that he would at least be lying on something.  He drank it quickly in an effort to get as much fluid into his deprived body as possible.  It only took minutes before the drugs took effect and he felt himself growing weaker by the second.  He lay down, his last thoughts being of James and the one night they had spent together.

His dreams were punctuated by gunshots, yelling, and explosions but when he awoke he saw not carnage, but a sterile white room in Medical.  James was asleep in the chair beside the bed, head cushioned on his arms on the mattress.  Q found his glasses on the table next to him and slid them on, observing James in his sleep.  The man looked completely worn and Q knew he should let him sleep but found his hand reaching out to run through his hair in spite of himself.  Bond moved slightly, slowly blinking his eyes open, a smile spreading across his face as he saw Q looking down at him. 

Reaching up, Bond laced his fingers with the hand Q was using to stroke his hair, bringing it to his mouth to kiss.  “Cris,” he breathed out, relieved. 

“James,” he smiled, gripping Bond’s hand tighter.  “Care to explain how I ended up in Medical?”

Sitting up, Bond scooted his chair closer, never letting go of Q’s hand.  “It’s been a week.  You were taken the first night I was in Dublin.  It only took another hour of searching before I realized the whole thing was a ruse.  I had gone back to the pub where the card was used and realized they had a security camera.  Torbett had taken it off the CCTV network so it would have appeared that there was no footage from the bar but they still had the tapes in the back from that night.  I looked through it all and never once did he step foot in the pub.  That was when I began to fear you were in danger.  I texted both John and Sherlock to go to the safe house but you had never made it home.   Mycroft checked and found that you never showed up for your ride.  I caught the first flight back from Dublin and alerted MI6 that you were missing.”

Q nodded, “I got in the car but it turned out Torbett had beaten Mycroft there.  It wasn’t until we were miles from MI6 that I realized something was wrong.  I tried to fight but they tranquilized me.” 

“Your technicians were all called in as this became a priority mission.  You are too important to MI6 to go missing and you do not have the cyanide capsule that we field agents carry at all times.  They scoured CCTV but Torbett was too good for them.  Endless loops and terrible feedback covered his tracks thoroughly.  In the end, it was Sherlock who figured out where you were.  It took three days.”  James shuddered and Q realized he had never seen the agent so shaken before, not even following the former M’s death. 

Continuing, Bond explained, “Mycroft cleared the area emptying out an entire block of London while John, Sherlock and I went in.  There were no guards, no traps.  It seemed too easy, but it turned out Torbett had assumed we wouldn’t be able to find you without him finding me first.  John found him in one of the tunnels.  Dropped him with one shot.  Remind me never to question that man’s marksmanship again.  He is a damned fine soldier and I’m going to take him out for drinks some night to thank him.  While John and I tended to Torbett, Sherlock found you.  You were unconscious but alive.  Whatever they had given you was strong.  You roused slightly twice but were quick to close your eyes once more.  After you, Sherlock, and John were out, I made sure that no one would ever use that place again and no one would ever find Torbett.”

“The pen?” Q asked, knowing James and his methods well.

James grinned.  “Yep.  Once you are back on duty, I’m going to need another one.  But we have both been given one month leave for rest and recovery.  They said you would be free to go once you woke and debriefed M.”  He leaned forward pressing a kiss to Q’s forehead.  “The only question that remains is, your place or mine?”


	15. Chapter 15

“I can walk on my own, James, so put me down.  In case you haven’t noticed, it is my wrist that is broken, not my leg.  You know, I’m not a child.”  They had been squabbling since Q had been released from Medical, Bond being overly protective of the young Quartermaster and Q resenting the implication that he was anything less than one hundred percent.   Q kicked at Bond as the agent carried him over his shoulder, unlocking the door to the flat with his other hand.

Bond set him down just inside the door and crowded him against the wall.  “I am well aware that you are not a child, Crispin.  You keep reminding me.  And even if you didn’t, this fuzz on your face would tell me.”  He rubbed his hand over Q’s face, relishing the feel of the hair under his fingers.

“It’s not fuzz, James.  It’s a beard.  I haven’t been able to shave in over a week.  I plan on getting rid of it today though.  It’s itchy.”

Bond brought his lips to the corner of Q’s jaw.  “Don’t,” he whispered.  “I like it.”  Q smiled, leaning into the soft brush of lips.  “Plus, there is something else I would like to do today instead.” 

Turning his head, Q captured James’ lips with his own.  “I would like that too.  Lead the way.” 

Taking Q by the hand, Bond led him through the spacious but mostly barren flat.  “I don’t spend much time here.  I just keep the necessities on hand but the bed more than makes up for it,” he growled pinning Q against the wall and pressing his body tight against the Quartermaster’s, kissing and licking at Cris’ ear.

“Then show it to me already.” Q laughed, pushing him away as James nipped at the skin of his neck.  They made it the rest of the way to the room without distraction, though both managed to toe off their shoes on the way, and Q’s cardigan was discarded somewhere in the hall.  In the bedroom it was clear that Bond had been speaking the truth.  There was nothing in the all-white room except for one enormous bed.  Hand carved wood frame, pillow top mattress and probably the highest thread count of Egyptian cotton sheets currently in production.  On top of everything was a fluffy duvet in navy blue.  However, Q barely had time to admire it before Bond pressed him down on top of the blankets, kissing him passionately. 

Q moaned appreciatively, bringing his hands up to lace through Bond’s hair, holding the man close.  Sliding his hands down, he undid James’ tie, pulling it from his collar before unbuttoning his shirt starting at the top and working down.  He followed the movements with his lips, kissing the newly exposed skin as he made quick work of undressing the agent. 

While Bond shrugged out of his shirt Q opened his trousers, pushing them down over his hips.  “Slow down, Cris.  We have all night,” Bond murmured, wrapping his hand around Q’s small wrist. 

“I’ve waited for too long, James.  I’m not waiting any longer.”  Wrapping one hand around Bond’s neck, he pulled the agent in for a bruising kiss, thrusting his hips up to brush against James’.  The movement spurred Bond into action. He ripped the shirt off Q, spraying the buttons around the room. 

Q broke the kiss, laughing. “You probably could have at least unbuttoned it first.  I’m not in that big of a hurry.”

“You might not be but I am,” James growled into his ear.  “I’ve waited just as long, Cris.  And I want you.”

Moaning at 007’s words, Q lifted his hips, letting the agent slide his trousers down.  Kicking them off along with his socks, Cris wrapped his legs around Bond’s pulling them as close together as possible.  “I don’t want this to end, James.  I want this forever,” he mumbled into the man’s neck, embarrassed by his sentiment but not wanting to go much further until the agent knew what he was getting into. 

“Me too, Cris.  Me too.”

With renewed passion, their hands flew over their bodies, Q gasping as it felt like fire everywhere Bond touched.  The agent was being gentle with him, always aware of Q’s broken wrist, but the touches were still heated and loving.  Q’s heart was pounding in his chest, not just from the kisses and caresses but also the sheer elation of finding himself in this place.  He was safe.  He was free.  And he was in James’ arms. 

Later, when Bond entered his body for the first time, there were gasped confessions of love that neither man thought he would ever hear in his life.  Soft, tender kisses turned frantic and biting as the agent drove harder into the man writhing beneath him.  And as James arched his back, emptying himself into his lover, tears came to Cris’ eyes when he realized that this man was his as much as he was James’.

James brought him to completion as well before delicately cleaning both of them.  They fell asleep sated, happy, and loved in each other’s arms while the sun shown in through the window.

~ ~ ~

That night they lay sprawled in bed, sheets bunched around their waists while Q typed on his laptop, pulling up headlines from the day’s news.

“They’re still trying to figure out how the crater happened under that old warehouse,” Q said conversationally.  “Latest theory is a gas line explosion.”  Bond moved closer, kissing Q’s neck and ear while the younger man attempted to push him away.  “Not now, Bond,” he grinned.  “It says there were no injuries or fatalities.  You don’t think he got away, do you?”

Bond wrapped a leg around Q’s, tugging him closer.  “Not a chance.  He was definitely dead.  John and I both made sure of that.  To be safe I placed the pen you gave me in his pocket just before we left.  No, he was dead.  There just isn’t enough left of him to find a body.”

Q rolled his eyes, chuckling fondly. “You know, I didn’t give you that pen to blow up part of London.  See if I ever give you nice things again.”

“It was necessary, Quartermaster.  He didn’t deserve a proper burial after hurting you.  He deserved to disappear entirely and never be seen or thought of again.” 

Shutting his laptop, Q rolled to pull James on top of him.  “I guess I can forgive that then.  But next time you feel the need to blow something up, promise me you won’t do it in our hometown.  It creates even more paperwork for me than usual and I really hate paperwork.”

If Q noticed that James didn’t promise, he didn’t argue as his lips were soon too busy for anything but kissing the man in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it is done. I hope you all enjoyed it. 
> 
> Many, many, many thanks to my beautiful beta oldamongdreams. Without you this piece would never have seen the light of day. Thanks for talking my through my freak outs and comma issues. I love you!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my brilliant Beta oldamongdreams and to kryptaria for allowing me to bounce ideas off her all the time.


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